separate

412 Entries for “separate”

I lost my ability to separate lust and love a long time ago. Pretty lips, shaved heads, lovely fros and big smiles seem to wound me. When I see these girls, my heart fills with the same emotion I feel when I really do love someone. Or maybe it’s never been love, at all.

separate. kind of like a schism, a divide, and the thing is that at first they used to be unionized and just some force splits them off. like a hair. split hair. that only happens because your hair is damaged in the first place. so you might as well fix it. but sometimes separation is the best way to do that, anyway. you never know.

To be separate from someone that you love can be the worst feeling in the world. The distance itself doesn’t even matter. It could be 10 feet or 10 miles, there is still that separation, and it slowly kills you. Never let distance come between love.

She opened up the small bag filled with coffee beans and poured them into the grinder. The morning was starting out pretty fresh, even though it was a simple Monday. She always went into the coffee shop about half an hour before she was even required to, mostly because she could be in the shop by herself without any bothersome coworkers. Well, at least it would have been an even fresher morning if not for who stood behind the counter.

The man behind the counter watched her without a word, although his face told more. He seemed impatient and ready to insult, and she could already see phrases piling up in his head that probably pertained to her chunky body frame. She smirked and refilled the coffeemaker, not bothering to look back again at the man.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna make me some coffee sometime soon?” He frowned.

“I hope you’re kidding, this coffee needs some time to have the right flavor. Plus, you know the store isn’t even open yet.” She cackled. This guy was always coming around the store every now and then before it even opened, but she couldn’t really do anything about it since he’s the big ol’ boss’s nephew.

They each went their separate ways, Diem to where he belonged, rightful servant to the Prime Minister of his world, ready to continue the work his friend had begun. And Atlus; to the cold depths of a ready and waiting cell on a prisoner planet, just on the outskirts of the furthest galaxy.

Trial separation. That’s what she said. Keeps saying, keeps telling all her friends and everyone willing to listen. Or so I’ve heard. I can see them thinking, every single one of them:
I wonder who’ll get the kids.

If we get separated I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t want to be alone with the weight our fate on my shoulders. I want to be holding his hand, or have him clinging to my sleeve when we have to save the world. I don’t want to be alone anymore. Nathaniel and I should never be separated again.

One could be necessary, while one is not the other. A cloud without a silver lining breaks bonds that never were: As such, there’s nothing but rainfall. What keeps the sun from the sky keeps Hell from breaking loose…

To separate the kid from the parents was a task. The cute little kid just would not let them go. Had they thought before about the kid, they would not have gone into murdering and kidnapping people for money. The pain of separation and the tears of remorse are flowing, but, the law and the Kid, both stand helpless.

We had to separate he told me; even though we had been together since we were children. Sometimes \I wondered if \i was even my own seprarate person, did I have any idienty wihtout him. For that reason I was glad we were splitting.

They were, and they thought they always will be. Never have they drifted apart from each other. They always kept their closeness and cherished it, even if, for some, their relationship was unnatural and wrong. For the most part, they childhood consisted mostly of memories of each other. Playing, talking, and the like. But even good things have to come to an end. Their relationship underwent a fast change, just after their father left for war. The sudden responsibilty on his young shoulders was new to Peter, and more so the sudden hostility his brother Edmund was showing him (which was returned by Peter- although with slightly less fervor). And these small fights, which all started from carelessly thrown insults, turned to much bigger ones, with more shouting and more carelessness.

when we are separate with person we love is does feels hurt. so make sure you don’t. cherish what you have with whom you’re with right now and don’t waste each moment. share thoughts, love and feelings everyday like it’s your last day.

Separate these shores, the fragments I have shored against these ruins. With the two stretches so close, the ruins meld into one, and the days bleed together; when did the present ever have a current? It’s only a moment that separates a fractured and crumbling past from the already fading future.

don’t separate me from my lot, that’s the only world i have to call my own, i can’t bear it. time lapsed my memory was revised and i found myself in a new land yet i felt desolateness within me as if someone was calling me from far of land, Mia!

You feel seperated, I know. Even when years go by and you still wonder why he hasn’t visited you in your dreams know that the gap between heaven and earth isn’t so big. It’s one heartache and one trembling, painful tear that can connect the frailest woman to the highest seraphim.

“Why?” he said between sobs. John could never imagine a life without Sherlock. He couldn’t stand being separated from him. He was just THERE in his life. It was as if he was with him in medical school. When he went to the playground when he was younger, it was as if Sherlock was ALWAYS there. John has never felt so alone in his life. After the fall, he doesn’t know how to move on now. Sherlock was his everything. How was he supposed to live when he has NOTHING?

My hands are shaky as I reach out to graze them against the stone wall that towers above my head. “What is it for?”
“To keep people separate,” a voice says from behind me.
Whipping around, I see an elderly man and feel safe enough to ask, “What do you mean?”
“The Lacklins have to be apart from the Abbeys or…” the man lowers his head and says in a low tone, “They’ll destroy each other.”

Separate. All I think of is people who love each other being apart. I think of the devestation and lonliness you feel. Hopelessness surrounds you and you strive for some form of fulfillment. Whether you are willingly separated or separated by force, you both feel a sort of emptiness that only comes from a pain in the heart.

Two parts. One egg. Yolk from white. crack. slip. strange. A molten gold beginning. Two hands, apart. Two minds. Supposedly one. But I am not. Can you be two when you are called one. Separate. No together. No. Two. But I am not. We venture forth, assumed as we. you are loved. By I. But I is not. you. we. not I but. There is only. the enormity of the love of a flea, and the crystal bell of a ring of silence.

She didn’t understand why she felt apart from everyone else. She should’ve been feeling just as excited, just as anxious to go…but she wasn’t, and it killed her that she couldn’t just conform. Why was it always she who stood looking a little off, not quite distant, and yet somehow not present either…

We separated. We used to be best friends. now we were enemies. He supported the Green Bay Packers. I supported the Minnesota Vikings. He said that I was stupid to support the almost bottom team. I said it was stupid to support the Packers, because they were our states’s enemies.

There is something about us, as human beings, that always causes us to try to separate, when we need each other most. We push people away when we want them, we yell want we want to hug. We all feel too intensely individual in some core way to recognize that separation isn’t necessarily the best option. That maybe we should hold on, instead.

It is funny, watching people on escalators. Everyone is separated by a courtesy stair or two – so afraid of getting to close, or being forced to be in contact with another human being. If we step into an elevator we go for close door before we’d think to wait – we want to be alone, even though all of us so badly want the contact we’re avoiding.